


Start It Up

by ereshai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Sabriel Minibang 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam starts his new life - new town, new apartment, and a new friend? Maybe if he ever meets the guy face to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start It Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sabriel Mini Bang on LJ. The art masterpost is [here](http://minions4pie.livejournal.com/3263.html?view=4543#t4543).
> 
> There are brief mentions of crappy childhoods, including bullying. At one point, Sam has a reaction to something that could be similar to a panic attack. If anyone feels I should tag for it, please let me know.
> 
> I was writing another, much more involved fic at the same time as this one, and I definitely feel this story suffered because of it. I am posting it anyway.  
> Many thanks to tricksyxoxo and pudding-and-madness on tumblr for the beta reads.

Sam’s new apartment was not tiny. It wasn’t large by any definition of the word, but it wasn’t tiny, no matter what Dean said.

“You’re paying how much to live in this shoebox?” Dean dropped the boxes he was carrying in the living room-slash-dining room. Sam glared, but didn’t say anything. He had carefully chosen what Dean got to carry for exactly that reason.

“I was lucky to get anything at this time of the year. It could be a lot worse. My other option was a sleeping room in a shitty motel.”

They both winced at their childhood memories of staying in shitty motels all over the country. Sam met Dean’s almost defiant stare and very carefully did not say a word about their father.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet.” Dean finally broke the uncomfortable silence. Sam nodded, then raced out of the apartment.

“Loser goes first when we carry up the furniture,” he yelled as he pounded down the hallway and into the stairwell.

“Hey,” Dean shouted, running after him. “No way I’m walking backward up those stairs carrying your shit. Sam! You hear me?”

“ _I_ hear you, assholes,” a voice floated down the stairwell. “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep.”

Sam and Dean stopped abruptly. Sam leaned over the rail and looked up, an apologetic look on his face.

“Uh…sorry?” he called up. He caught a glimpse of a man with light brown hair as he was moving away.

“Whatever.” A moment later, a door slammed from somewhere on the floor above Sam’s.

Sam turned and looked at Dean, who rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Probably works nights,” he said.

“Well, now that I’ve made a wonderful first impression on my new neighbor, let’s get the rest of my stuff.” Sam took off down the stairs, as quickly and quietly as he could. Dean caught up to him and pushed past him, shoving him back with an arm across his chest.

“Jerk,” he protested, keeping his voice low.

“Bitch,” Dean replied. Sam chased after him, and they reached the exit at the same time.

After some argument, Dean grudgingly agreed to go first up the stairs, because ‘I don’t think you can handle walking backward and carrying something, Sammy. Leave that to a real man’. Sam didn’t point out that he was taller than Dean, and it just made sense to do it that way. It was difficult, because he’d been holding those extra inches over Dean’s head – literally – since his last growth spurt in high school.

It didn’t take them long to haul up the few pieces of furniture they had jammed in the bed of the borrowed pickup – a bed frame and mattress, a small couch, and a desk were the biggest items.

When they had finished carrying everything up, Dean and Sam collapsed on the couch. It creaked under the weight.

“Bobby’s not expecting me back until Monday. I could stay tonight, help you unpack.” Dean picked at a thin spot in the upholstery covering the arm of the couch.

“Sure, Dean. Thanks.” There wasn’t that much to unpack, but the thought of Dean leaving started a little wave of panic churning in Sam’s middle. They hadn’t spent much time apart in…ever. As much as he wanted to strike off on his own, the reality of it was just starting to sink in.

“I mean, it’s not that long a drive, but I’d rather start fresh in the morning, you know?” Dean continued, as if he was still trying to convince Sam to let him stay.

“You need to set up that ancient stereo, anyway.” Sam gestured at the tangle of electronics, wires, and speakers dumped in the corner. Dean had insisted Sam take it, even though it had been set up in Dean’s room since they had moved in with Bobby almost ten years ago. It played records and cassette tapes, and Dean had included some of his music collection as a gift. Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him he probably wouldn’t use it that often.

“The sound quality is a hell of a lot better than those shitty speakers you have on your laptop, or that iPod.” Dean hoisted himself up and started assembling the thing right there on the floor. Sam grinned, and got to work on the cheap plastic shelving he was going to use to hold his books.

Dean left after lunch the next day. Before he did, he gave Sam a hug. A real one, not a one-armed chest bump, followed by a few manly thumps on the back. Sam wrapped his arms around him in return. They didn’t do this much; Dean was too busy trying to be strong and do everything on his own. Sam intended to do something about that as soon as he could.

“You need me, you need anything, you call.” He nodded, and Dean took off without another word.

Sam looked around his new place. It was a little tiny, he had to admit, not that he would ever say that to Dean. He booted up his laptop on the off chance that someone had unsecured wireless he could mooch off of until he got his own. While the networks in the area did have some interesting names – JARVIS, muahahaha and SomeCallMeTim were his favorites – all of them were secured. He resigned himself to an early night.

~

He settled in fairly quickly, learning his way around the campus and the rest of the city over the following weeks. He also lucked into a part time job at a gas station that worked around his schedule; his scholarships and his savings took care of most of what he needed, but there wasn’t quite enough to cover a monthly internet bill, or even an occasional night at the bar.

Sam sat at his desk one Saturday morning, sorting through his mail. He only ever got junk mail, but sometimes there were coupons for the grocery store where he usually shopped. The corner of a white envelope caught his eye. He pulled it out of the pile, frowning. The return address was some sort of agency in New York. He checked the addressee – it was for a G. Lord, in the apartment one floor above him. He had met most of the other residents in passing; none of them were G. Lord. The only person he hadn’t officially met was the man he and Dean had disturbed when he was moving in – this must be him. If he did work nights, he wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed right now, not even for a misdirected letter.

Sam grabbed a sticky note and jotted a quick note – _This was delivered to me by mistake. Sorry we woke you when I was moving in last month. - S. W., Apt. 2C –_ jogged up the stairs to apartment 3C, and slipped it under the door.

He spent the rest of the day in the campus library, working on a paper for one of his classes. His evening was spent quietly in his apartment, going to bed when he ran out of things to do online. The next day was just as quiet, except for a phone call from Dean ‘just checking in’ like he did every Sunday.

Monday was an easy day for him, class-wise. When he got home that afternoon, there was a small pile of mail shoved under his door with a sticky note stuck on top.

 _You are forgiven. So, where are you from? How did you end up here? (I believe these are yours.) – G._ He looked through the mail that accompanied the note. It was all junk mail, addressed to Resident. Sam laughed. He liked G’s sense of humor. He threw everything in his recycling, except for one piece that actually had G’s apartment number on it. It was only right to return it…in the morning, because he had to go to work.

Sam considered how he would respond to G’s note as he worked. The question had made him think of Dean and their childhood spent on the road. About moving in with Bobby and finally having a real home when Sam was twelve. About Dad and his years-long attempt at suicide by alcohol, followed by his debilitating stroke. Not the kind of stuff you put on a sticky note to a total stranger. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say by the time he was home and in bed for the night.

The next morning, as he got ready for the day, he finally decided to keep his answer to the bare bones.

_You missed one.    I’m from Sioux Falls. Mostly. It’s a long story. You? –S._

__

He detoured up to G’s apartment, slid the flier and the note under his door, and then hurried off to his first class of the day. Occasionally he would wonder when – if – G was going to answer, and what G even stood for, but his professors required his complete attention, so he pushed those thoughts aside.

A reply was waiting just inside his door when he got home from work that night. This time, G had written on a torn piece of notebook paper, his writing looping and scrawling across the page.

_I have no fixed address. I got bored and threw a dart at a map - just aimed for the middle. I guess I have better aim than I thought, because the geographical center of North America is only a few hours’ drive from here. I was hoping for something a little further south, but I have to go where random chance takes me. And you never said why you moved here. –Gabriel_

__

Gabriel. Gabriel Lord. An interesting name. He immediately Googled it, but what he found was less than helpful; a few possible hits on social media sites, but he didn’t know where Gabriel had lived before, or if that was even his real name. Nothing incriminating popped up in the area, though, which meant either he was as innocuous as he seemed, or he was really good at covering his tracks. Sam checked the local paper’s website for unsolved murders within the last year, and was relieved to find there weren’t any. Gabriel was probably not a serial killer.

Before he could think better of it, he ripped a page out of his notebook to answer.

_I’m here for law school. You haven’t been here very long yourself, have you? You didn’t mention the snow or the cold at all. Everyone talks about that after their first winter. – Sam (Winter is coming.)_

__

He included his personal email address on a whim. He delivered the note the next morning, and tried not to think about it for the rest of the day. Exchanging the notes was…fun, and Gabriel made him laugh. It would be nice to have a friend who wasn’t immersed in contracts and torts all the time. But it was also distracting, and there was no way he was going to fail any of his classes, not after everything Dean had given up to help him get here. He didn’t check his email until he was eating supper that evening.

There was a message from an unfamiliar address – candyman155 – in his inbox.

_Dear Lawyer Sammy, can I call you Sammy?_

_I keep hearing about the legendary winters around here. It keeps the riff raff out, right? Sorry, it takes more than a little ice and snow to scare me._

_And did you meme me? Are you a GoT fan? Books or tv show? Or are you a pretender? Please tell me you only have casual knowledge, so I can bust out my ‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’ gif on you. Do not test my GoT knowledge. You will lose._

_Gabriel_

Sam chuckled and typed out a reply.

_No, you can’t call me Sammy._

_Bring on the gif, because I’ve only seen a couple of episodes of Game of Thrones. My brother’s the fan. He’s read the books, too._

_Also, reboot Trek? Really?_

_Sam_

He wanted to ask what Gabriel did for a living that allowed him to just pick up and move so easily. Maybe he was independently wealthy; but then why was he living in such a crappy apartment building? Sam didn’t want to freak the guy out with a bunch of personal questions. He’d save those for when they knew each other a little better. He hit Send before he could change his mind.

His Thursdays were always busy, and he didn’t have time to check his personal email until late afternoon. He had three emails from Gabriel.

_1:14 am_

_So your brother’s a fan. Is he cute?_

_Yes, Trek reboot. Sulu is awesome._

_Gabriel_

_3:56 am_

_Never mind about your brother. I’m assuming he’s in Sioux Falls, or somewhere else that is not here, which does me no good._

_Chekov is also awesome._

_3:58 am_

_And Scotty, too._

Sam stared at his screen, then started laughing. He didn’t know if the emails were a result of the late hour, or Gabriel’s personality, but they were amusing.

_Gabe,_

_Yes, my brother’s in Sioux Falls. Too bad for you. You could have geeked out about the Red Wedding and Tyrion Lannister together. But he’d only break your heart in the end – he hates reboot Trek._

_Sam_

Email sent, he pulled out his textbooks, doing his required reading until supper time. Supper was a salad and some fruit, and he lingered over it, trying to convince his stomach it was enough. Now that he could eat the way he wanted, he had to train his body to stop craving junk food all the time. It was a slow process.

His evening was free since he didn’t work on Thursdays. He checked his email, but there was no reply from Gabriel – not that he was expecting one. There was one from Dean with an update about Dad, and a little news about Bobby and the car they were restoring. Sam sent one back with some interesting stories about his classes and his job, and when they could expect him for Christmas. He spent the rest of his evening listening to music and building a model car he’d recently bought. He had never built models when he was younger, and when he saw the Impala kit sitting on the clearance shelf, he decided to give it a try.

The window was open to help vent the model glue fumes. Children shrieked outside, playing a game that involved yelling numbers at the top of their lungs and hitting each other with a ball. One particularly shrill child was standing beneath Sam’s window. He glanced out, but the kid was too close to the building for Sam to be able to see him. He was about to open the screen and poke his head out when something fell past his window. The screaming stopped abruptly, immediately followed by wailing cries.

“The next one will have dye in it,” a voice shouted from above him. The crying tapered off. “Keep it up if you want to end up looking like an eggplant.”

Sam wrestled the screen up and looked outside. Gabriel – it must have been Gabriel – was not visible in the window above him. He looked down, and saw a small boy staring up at him, his hair plastered to his head and his clothes clinging to his skin.

“You might want to go home and change, kid. It’s a little chilly to be running around wet like that,” Sam said.

“Fuck you, mister.” The kid flipped him off and turned and ran away.

“You’re welcome,” Sam hollered after him, then muttered, “Little shit.”

He closed the screen again, then put the model away. He’d lost his momentum on the project, and there really wasn’t anything else he wanted to do in the short time before he went to bed. It was nights like these when he missed having a television; he could pull something up on his laptop, but sometimes he just wanted to channel surf.

A new email notification chimed on his laptop. It was from Gabriel.

_First, no. Not Gabe. Ever._

_Second, stop trying to set me up with your brother. It would never work. I understand his feelings regarding the reboot, but I can’t be with anyone who doesn’t love Sansa above all others._

_Third, was that kid referring to you or me? Little shit._

Sam smiled and shook his head.

_Dear sir,_

_I regret to inform you that you were not the target of profanity and obscene gestures from the minor child in question._

_So, do you just not like kids, or was it that particular kid?_

_Sam_

The reply came fairly quickly.

_I like kids just fine. I just don’t like being woken up early by banshee wailing. I was going to sleep for at least another hour, but there’s no point in trying to get back to bed now. I guess I don’t have any excuse not to get an early start tonight._

Sam tried to stop himself, but it was like Gabriel wanted him to ask.

_Early start on what?_

Gabriel’s reply took a long time coming.

_Writing. I’ve got a deadline coming up, and I’m further behind than I’d like to be. Luckily, my muse has been running away with me lately._

Sam took that as a hint, and sent back a short acknowledgement. At least now he knew what Gabriel did for a living. He checked the time. It was after eight thirty, and he resigned himself to a quiet evening and an early bedtime. A quick search online did not reveal any books or articles in Gabriel’s name; maybe he used a pen name.

On Fridays, Sam worked an early shift, and he only had one class, so that was the day he usually ran errands. He was on his way out to the grocery store when a flash of color in the stairwell caught his eye. He peered over the railing to see someone in a clown outfit walking up. Toward him.

“Aaaah!” Sam jerked back, almost falling on his ass, and scrambled back to his apartment, fumbling with the keys. He glanced back and saw the top of a curly green wig slowly rising up the stairs. His door finally opened, and he threw himself inside, slamming the door behind him.

He was sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily, when a knock sounded on his door. He got and approached the door slowly. It was unlocked, and he engaged it as quietly as he could before looking through the peephole.

The clown was standing outside his door. There was another knock. Sam jerked back.

“Sam?” He recognized that voice.

“Gabriel?” He looked through the peephole again. The clown was still there.

“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to get Gabriel to go away. He liked the guy well enough, but this was asking too much of their budding friendship.

“Sam? Are you afraid of clowns?” Gabriel had a nice voice. If only it wasn’t coming from a nightmare in freakish makeup.

“…maybe?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay. I’m going upstairs now. We can talk later, when I’m out of costume. How’s that sound?”

“Sure. I gotta go…do something. Bye!” Sam bolted to his bedroom without waiting for a reply.

It didn’t actually take him very long to stop freaking out. Once he told himself – and believed it – that it was just Gabriel, who was slowly becoming his friend, underneath all that shit, he was able to calm down. Still, he checked the hallway and then the stairwell very carefully before he left to do his grocery shopping. He was a little jittery for the entire trip.

When he got home, there was an email from Gabriel waiting for him.

_Sam,_

_Sorry I scared you. On Fridays, I volunteer as a clown at the pediatrics center. I make balloon animals and perform a little slapstick. The kids love it. I’ve been doing it for years, everywhere I’ve lived._

_I’ll give you some warning next time._

_Gabriel._

Sam thought for a long while before he replied.

_Gabriel,_

_I would appreciate that, thank you. I think it was more that I saw a clown in a place I wouldn’t normally expect to see one. It caught me off guard. I don’t usually flee at the sight of one like that._

_Sam_

Sam put away his groceries and pulled out his notes. Concentrating on his schoolwork would help settle his nerves.

That evening, Gabriel sent another email.

_If you are up for it tomorrow, you should come to my place for an apology beer. Around 9? No clown gear will be visible._

Now Sam felt a little embarrassed. Gabriel probably thought he was an idiot.

_That sounds like fun. See you tomorrow._

Sam called Dean and they talked for over an hour. Sam didn’t mention the clown incident, but Dean asked him if he was all right a couple of times. When they finally hung up, Sam was feeling much better.

In the morning, Sam ran out and bought a bag of chips and some dip. He didn’t know what kind Gabriel liked, so he went with his favorites. He could always take the stuff home with him at the end of the night.

He spent the rest of the day at the library, trying to decide what he wanted his next paper to focus on. The professor had been infuriatingly vague as to what she wanted. At least in his other classes, he had very clear instructions to work with. This was the only one giving him trouble.

Sam tried to quiet his stomach with promises of chips and dip later when it rumbled at him during supper. The healthy eating thing was going well, but he needed to expand his cooking repertoire. He didn’t want to go back to meals from a can or frozen dinners.

He almost took out the model car to work on, but the thought of inhaling model glue fumes followed by alcoholic beverages didn’t sound like a good combination, so he killed time online until it was time to leave.

When he got to Gabriel’s apartment, he found the door ajar. He knocked hesitantly.

“Hello? Gabriel?”

“Sam? Come on in. I just need to finish this paragraph.”

Sam walked in. Gabriel’s apartment was identical to his own, of course, but with a lot more clutter. A large screen tv took up most of one wall in the living-slash-dining room, with a comfortable looking couch set against the opposite wall. There was a small round table near the kitchen, and Sam set the chips and dip on it. Gabriel was sitting at a desk by the window, typing furiously on his laptop.

“Have a seat,” he called without turning.

Sam sat on the couch and tried not to stare at his host. Gabriel had light brown hair. It was hard to tell while he was seated, but he definitely looked shorter than Sam. Then again, most people were.

“Sorry about that. If I don’t get everything out, I forget what I wanted to write,” Gabriel said as he saved his work and shut off his laptop. He turned and smiled at Sam.

Sam smiled back. Gabriel was cute. Very cute. Maybe eventually he’d be interested in being more than friends.

Gabriel stood up, and Sam did, too.

“Hi, I’m Sam.” He held out his hand. “You probably already guessed that.”

“Damn, you are tall. I like.”

“Um, thanks?”  

Gabriel just smirked at him. “Ready for that beer?”

“Yeah. I brought a snack.” Sam pointed at the table.

“Great,” Gabriel said, snagging the bag of chips on his way to the kitchen. “I’ll stick these in a bowl, and we can watch the game.”

“There’s a game? Who’s playing?” Sam grabbed the dip, opened it, and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. There was a bowl of candy on the table, and he took a piece.

“Who cares? It’s only going to be on to cover any awkwardness while we get to know each other. Why don’t you find something? The remote’s in there somewhere.”

Sam found the remote between the couch cushions, and turned the tv on. He brought up the menu, and quickly found a pool tournament.

“Well, it’s a game, anyway,” Gabriel said when he walked in with a bowl of chips and a couple of beers.

“I’m somewhat familiar with pool.” He didn’t mention the number of times he and Dean had hustled pool when they were still on the road with their father.

“Cool.” He set the bowl on the table, handed Sam a beer, and settled on the couch next to him. “I hope you’re old enough to drink.” He didn’t sound too concerned about it either way.

“Yep.” Sam took a swig and leaned forward to grab a chip.

“So, law student, Sioux Falls, afraid of clowns – Don’t worry,” he said at Sam’s wince, “it’s very common. Anyway, I know all this, and I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Winchester. And yours is Lord?”

Gabriel grimaced. “Yeah. That’s why I don’t let anyone call me Gabe.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Because if you’re a group of ten year old boys, it gets shortened to Gay. Gay Lord. You hear that chanted at you every day for an entire school year, you tend to have bad associations.”

“That makes sense. Sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

They sat and watched a Grand Master demonstrate a trick shot on the tv.

“I’ve been wondering,” Sam said to break their first awkward silence. “Are you published? What do you write?”

“Yeah, I’m published, under several different names. My agent thought it would be easier to sell certain titles under more appropriate names.”

“Huh?”

“I write erotic fiction. Readers of that genre tend to react more positively to female authors, so I write under women’s names.” Gabriel gestured at his bookshelf. “The entire top shelf is my stuff.”

“Okay, I get that. But why more than one?” Sam got up and took a look at the titles.

“Different names for different types of erotica. I write the vanilla hetero stuff under one name, the kinky hetero under another, then I have a couple more for the guy-on-guy stuff. My agent wants me to branch out into paranormal erotica next. I’m still thinking about it.”

“Wow.” Sam took one of the books from the shelf. There were two men on the cover, half naked in an embrace. It looked like a standard romance cover. “You’re not into the supernatural, then?”

“Write what you know, you know? It’s why I don’t write girl-on-girl. My only experience with that is from bad porn.”

“Fair enough.” Sam returned to the couch.

“Now that you know my deep, dark secret, why don’t you get started on the long story of how you’re mostly from Sioux Falls?” Gabriel grabbed a chip and scooped up some dip.

Sam took a long swallow of his beer. “Well, my brother and I mostly lived out of cheap motels with our dad for the first twelve years of my life. Then we moved in with Bobby.”

“Just you and your brother, or your dad, too?”

“He had his own thing going on. He would visit occasionally.”

“Your mom?”

“She died in a house fire when I was a baby. That’s when Dad stopped smoking and started drinking.” He hadn’t meant to say that. There hadn’t been any conclusive evidence that the fire had been caused by a lit cigarette. It could just as easily have been electrical. But he knew Dad blamed himself. Sam did, too, a little.

“That’s rough.” Gabriel put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Yeah.” Sam took another drink. “What made you start writing erotica, anyway?”

Gabriel took the subject change in stride. “I wrote my first one as a joke. My ex-girlfriend loved to read them, and when I read one, I said I could do better. She dared me to do it. So I did.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, there was a bit more to it than that. Luck played a big part in getting published at all. My first one was pretty bad. Every cliché you can think of was in it. The thing is, I really enjoyed it. So I kept at it.”

“And you kept getting published.”

“Exactly. When I finally got my head out of my ass and admitted I was also attracted to men, I started writing gay erotica, too.”

“So, what, you write about your love life?”

“God, no, I’d be in a lot of trouble. Let’s just say, inspired by.”

After that, the conversation flowed easily. Sam slipped in a mention of Dean’s reaction to his first boyfriend, which was mostly confusion, because Sam had just broken up with his first girlfriend.

“You could have just said you date men, too.” Gabriel finished his beer and stood up. “Want another?”

“Sure. I didn’t want it to look like I was throwing myself at you. I just wanted to put it out there.”

“So, you’d be interested in a _romantic_ relationship? With me?” Gabriel came back two more beers.

“Yes.”

“Aww, yeah.”

Gabriel sat down again, this time pressing in close to Sam. Sam put his hand on Gabriel’s knee. Gabriel smiled, and they started discussing the technique of the pool players currently facing off on the screen in front of them.

When Sam finally made himself leave, Gabriel walked him to the door. They stood in the open doorway.

“You know, I usually date people who are taller than you.” Sam looked down at Gabriel. Was it too soon for a kiss?

“Shut up. I usually date people who are not giants.”

Gabriel grabbed Sam’s shoulders and jumped, wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist. He automatically put his hands under Gabriel’s thighs to hold him up.

“That’s better,” Gabriel said, and covered Sam’s mouth with his own. He tasted like beer and chip dip. Sam didn’t mind.

When the kiss ended, Gabriel unwrapped himself and hopped down.

“Sweet dreams,” he said with a wink, then he went back inside.

Sam blinked, suddenly finding himself staring at the closed door.

“You, too,” he said, sure that Gabriel was standing right on the other side and could hear him just fine. Sam walked down the hallway. He’d email him in the morning, and ask him out on a second date. Maybe Gabriel had Skype; he’d have to ask.

 

Now with bonus clown!Gabriel!


End file.
